


The Time Spider-Man had Batman Help Him Out

by sunbean72



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, I don't like hurting feelings, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is an Avenger, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, it just happens, multifandom - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, this got a bit more angsty than I intended, woopsie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12003819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbean72/pseuds/sunbean72
Summary: Uuuuggg nothing ever turns out the way I think it should but I'm done fiddling with it.





	1. Chapter 1

"Have it written on my tombstone, died of stupidity," Peter Parker muttered to himself. Well. Not himself. Karen. But as Karen was the name of a disembodied artificial intelligence and only he could hear her, it was kind of like talking to himself sometimes. Anyone watching him would definitely have thought he was crazy.

"Are you planning on needing a tombstone, Peter?" Karen asked politely. 

"Yes, I'll need a tombstone when I freeze to death," he told her as he shivered violently. He really hadn't planned on being out this long; it had started snowing and it was dark now. 

"I could activate the built-in heater in your suit, Peter," Karen reminded him. He felt a pang in his chest. Mr. Stark had done so much to make sure he was safe and taken care of and would no doubt be freaking out right now if he knew what Peter was up to. 

"No heater just yet, Karen, it's too loud I can't hear anything when it's on."

"I will make a note of that for the file of suggestions for future suits."

"Great. And make a note about my epitaph while you're at it."

"Sure thing," Karen replied cheerfully. Peter sighed.

"Anything on the police scanner about Batman or criminal mischief?"

"Perhaps Gotham's criminals are indoors where it's warm," Karen offered. "The police bands are quiet except for car accidents due to slippery conditions and other minor calls. Nothing they would expect Batman to need to intervene in."

Peter groaned, brushing the snow off his head. "Okay, um... Is there a place in the city that is particularly known as a hotbed of criminal mischief or something? Like, a place where Batman gets his coffee or something?"

Karen was silent a moment and a map popped up on Peter's HUD. Little red dots flickered across the map of Gotham City. It zoomed in on a ten block radius about a mile from where Peter was. "Thirty-nine of the last 100 Batman interventions were in this neighborhood. There's a chance he more closely surveils this area."

"Awesome," Peter said glumly. He had tried swinging around the city, trying to bump into him. He'd tried waiting on top of a tall building to see if he could spot him. It was time for more drastic measures. If he couldn't come to Batman, he'd just have to bring Batman to him.

...

It definitely probably was not illegal. Right? He didn't ask Karen, he was afraid of the answer. Because illegal or not, short of firing up the old bat signal, Peter was out of ideas on how to locate the Dark Knight and every hour that passed was getting more desperate. He wasn't _actually_ robbing a bank. No matter how tempting that would be. Not that he was tempted, he was just saying, he could see how that _could_ tempt someone. Not him. 

Just for fun, though, as a mental exercise, he thought through how he could do it. Webbing up the security cameras, that'd be easy. Since most motion detectors were at floor level, they'd be easy to evade. He was cold enough he wouldn't set off any heat sensors either. Getting into the vault might take a little more time, but with some preparation, he could probably do that, too. If cracking the security didn't work, he was pretty sure with the right leverage the webs were strong enough to rip the door off. It really wouldn't be that hard. 

Anyway.

With deadly accuracy, he shot a web at the bank window, generating enough force to trip the alarm. Unfortunately, he'd misjudged just a smidge on how much force exactly was needed, and it kind of shattered the window.

_Um. Oopsie. Definitely not legal._

__

At least he was well back from any surveillance cameras, he'd scouted three times. If there's anything he knew, it was where to look for cameras. The snow and darkness were helpful too, and the fact that he could shoot a web from 500 feet away with deadly accuracy. 

__

Silently and carefully, he swung up to the top of the tall building across from the bank. Being the cause of a little mayhem for once was kind of a little funny. Guiltily he thought how Mr. Stark would _not_ be pleased with the broken window but he would think of some way to pay it back. Volunteer or something. Did banks need volunteers? And could he get school credit? The alarm blared insistently, boring into his brain. Sometimes super hearing was a super pain.

__

He was definitely going to have to make sure no baddies would take advantage of the broken window and actually rob the bank. He heard police sirens in the distance, that was a good sign. As long as Batman got here first. Maybe he was taking a night off, was that a thing? Minutes ticked by and the only thing that happened was a bunch of people came out of an apartment building to inspect the broken window. The police came and Peter's heart sank. A guy in a fancy car showed up and went in with some of the officers and the alarm cut off abruptly. The sudden silence was weird and eerie in the falling snow, but Peter could still hear the voices of the people below.

__

Okay. Well. That was a bust. He stood up and turned around, quietly thinking to himself about the next step which would probably involve more stupid plans when he heard on the outer reaches of his super hearing, the softest sound of a foot moving. He froze.

Luckily Karen was a smart cookie and automatically initiated a scan of the rooftop. She saw what Peter, his mask in place, could not-- that shadow was harboring a large, very large, hulking even, man. "I can see you," Peter said matter-of-factly, though, truthfully, this was the most dangerous-- and stupid-- part of his plan. He could probably only hope to evade Batman; although he could stop a bus with his bare hands and fight street criminals all day (and, let's not forget he took out the Vulture single-handedly), Batman was a martial artist; much more skilled at fighting than Peter was. There was a chance he could slow him down or stop him, but Peter was less than eager to test that theory.

The Dark Knight stepped out of the shadows, and yeah, okay, it was a bit intimidating. He was a lot bigger than Peter and it looked like all muscle. He moved with the power and grace of a cougar, a really strong and muscular cougar who spent maybe too much time at the gym.

"Spider-Man isn't known for robbing banks. He usually stops criminals. Are you a copycat or have you turned to a life of crime?" Batman said finally.

"Um, neither? It was an accident. Well, breaking the window was. I, um, needed to find you? I need your help."

Under his mask, Bruce Wayne studied the young superhero. He, of course, had studied everything he could about him once he appeared in the neighboring city of New York; he always had a contingency when it came to the powered people that were cropping up, at least when he could. He didn't look very dangerous; a skinny, smallish teenager by the size and sound of him; but he knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving and that teenagers were some of the more dangerous people he interacted with. He'd seen the youtube videos; he knew this young man could probably overpower him if strength were the deciding factor.

"Let me get this straight. You came to Gotham city, spent all night so far looking for me, and when you couldn't find me, you broke a bank window to trip the alarm so I would come and you could ask me for help?"

"Um. Yes? I think you summarized it pretty well there."

"Listen." Batman's voice was stern and it didn't occur to Peter to disobey it. Like, at all. It was scary and awesome at the same time. "I want to help as many people as I can. But you can understand if I start letting people commit crimes in order to get my attention and help, it sets a bad precedent. You seem like a capable young man. I suggest you stay out of Gotham, and ask your local authorities if you need help with something out of your league. And don't break any more windows."

He turned to leave. 

"Mr. Wayne, please!" Peter said without thinking. The Dark Knight slowly turned back, and Peter, clapping a hand over his mouth, took an involuntary step back. In one lightning fast movement that Peter could sense before it came but did not move to dodge, Batman picked him up by the front of his Spider-Man uniform and held him off the ground. Karen helpfully analyzed several ways to escape and displayed them on the HUD, as well as suggesting several web combinations. But Peter didn't move. 

"S-sorry, I-- Sorry." He spluttered.

"Let's take this from the top. Why did you call me that?"

"Um." He squirmed against the iron-fast grip, dangling him a foot off the ground. "Mr. Stark told me. Tony, I mean. Stark. Um. He didn't _tell me_ tell me? I uh... I hacked into one of his secure servers, looking for information that... I was looking for something else, and I came across these files on Bruce Wayne, which I just figured he knew you, um, him, from... like business? Or there's some kind of billionaires club? But why was the file on the secure server that FRIDAY wasn't even connected to, I figured it must be pretty top secret and... uh, yeah. It was. But that's when I realized you knew each other and maybe you could help me because the file said you were like the greatest detective on the planet? And everyone else kept telling me to stay out of it, but no _way_ was I going to stay out of it! Everything's my fault I gotta help make it right! And then I broke the window."

Batman set him down, calculating, trying to extract the pertinent information from the rambling explanation. "Come with me," he said finally. Peter felt a leap of excitement. Or was it fear? Probably fear. Batman walked to the edge of the roof and glancing over at Peter, fired a grappling hook the building across the alley so he could swing down. Peter followed his lead and fired a web. Batman leaped from the building with an acrobatic grace and Peter jumped after him, landing beside the ACTUAL BATMOBILE _oh my gosh, the actual Batmobile._

"Get in, kid," Batman said as the door swung open. Peter climbed it, knocking as much snow and mud from his shoes as he could. Then he just... he just like GOT IN. THE BATMOBILE.

He looked around interestedly, running his fingers over the surfaces around him. Everything looked very... fancy. Very Fancy. Expensive. More expensive than his whole apartment and he lived in Queens. "This. Is so cool," he said. He saw the enigmatic hero smirk a little. "Hey, um... Mr. Wayne? Or do you prefer Batman? Would you mind if I...? Or do you think I should?"

"Should what?"

"You know." He gestured in a circular motion to his face. Batman frowned at him slightly then shook his head.

"Whatever you want." Peter figured there was not really much chance of keeping his identity a secret from the world's greatest detective, but. He did feel a small pang, knowing how carefully Mr. Stark helped him protect his identity. He would probably give him The Look #32 I Do No Appreciate the Decisions You Are Currently Making, or #13 That Was a Stupid Move Peter Why Me. But unless he asked for help there was a chance Mr. Stark wouldn't get home to give him any looks. He swallowed, hoping it would alleviate some of the pain in his chest. He hadn't felt guilty like this since Uncle Ben died, and he admitted to himself that maybe, yeah, it could have something to do with it. A teenager and already he had baggage, awesome. 

He pulled off his mask and leaned down to more closely examine the interior of the car. There were some computer displays and fiddly buttons or levers that probably did dramatic things. Karen was still in his ear. "Be careful Peter," she murmured. Huh. That was a first. Anyway, he was being careful. 

Bruce Wayne watched the curious teenager from the corner of his eye. He didn't recognize him, of course, but he did notice quite a few other things. Circles under his eyes, probably not sleeping well; not surprising for a teenager or for a crime fighter. His uniform was high end, expensive. Obviously one of a kind and specially made with specifications to directly match the performance and protection that would be needed. He'd mentioned Tony Stark, so it was not a huge stretch to imagine that's who gave him the suit.

"What's your name?" He asked, still watching the teenager surreptitiously.

"Peter."

Bruce didn't respond, thinking through everything Peter had said. Of course, it was all over the news that the famous Avenger was missing, but details were sketchy. Some were calling it an industrial accident on Stark Industries property and they reported that Tony was one of the several people missing, presumed dead and buried under the rubble. Some other sources were calling it a Hydra plot, or a SHIELD cover up, or both. Still others theorized that the accident was a front so that Tony Stark could go off radar to help capture the ex-Avengers. All that was known for certain is that there was a large explosion and neither Tony Stark nor Iron Man had been seen or heard from in six days. It wasn't the first time that Tony had gone missing. It was always a cause for concern, but Tony had proved himself resilient over and over again. Bruce hadn't gotten worried about it, and Tony had many capable allies. One of those allies approaching him for help was one of the last things he expected.

Not that their circles didn't sometimes intersect. Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark were both rich and influential business men; both took over their respective companies from their fathers. Both of them were adept at technology, Tony more so, and business, Bruce more so. Bruce had briefly even gone to MIT, before he decided to pursue a more... non-traditional post-high school education. Tony was only fifteen at the time, Bruce closer to nineteen. He'd met Tony in a few classes, despite Bruce being close to finishing his degree and Tony being a freshman. The teenage Tony Stark was a loud-mouthed, somewhat obnoxious, immature, troubled... genius. Bruce hadn't liked the arrogant loud mouth and though they interacted, he hadn't sought a friendship with him. He had settled down a bit, Tony had, after becoming roommates with James Rhodes, and Bruce had tolerated him a bit better after that, though they hadn't seen much of each other.

Later, Bruce Wayne had watched, with the rest of the world, as the story of Tony Stark's disappearance and miraculous rescue unfolded, ten years ago now. He had carefully watched as Iron Man was born, monitoring the mercurial billionaire. It wouldn't have surprised him if the death of his parents, kidnapping, torture, and now sudden almost unlimited power would have made Tony... unstable. Perhaps... villain-ish. He'd even started including himself more and more into Tony's circle at parties and conferences and business meetings in order to keep an eye on him.

Tony had been much less present at parties than he had before Afghanistan. He had to do a bit more work to keep an eye on him, but what he'd seen hadn't worried him. Tony seemed like a determined and ruthless... hero. He ended his lucrative weapons manufacturing and turned his nose-diving company into something bigger and better. The betrayal of his business partner hadn't turned him either, as he'd seen it do to other men. Every setback and betrayal Tony suffered seemed to only make him more determined to be kind and compassionate. He'd made mistakes, but never maliciously; Bruce Wayne knew something about that himself.

At what point Tony had guessed or found out who Batman really was was anyone's guess. He'd never even mentioned it, and of course Iron Man's identity was public knowledge. They hadn't rubbed elbows in months, maybe even a year now. Ever since the Accords were signed and Tony's Avenger teammates had withdrawn themselves, Tony hadn't come to many parties. Or meetings. That's what happens when you take the weight of saving the world on your shoulders.

And, apparently, the weight of mentoring a young teenage super-powered arachnoid child.

As eager as he was to interrogate Peter, Bruce refrained from questioning him while they drove to Wayne Manor. Peter seemed absorbed with discovering the intricacies of the Batmobile, but Bruce noticed the fidgets, the tapping of his foot, the nervous and anxious energy that Peter had. He knew the signs. The kid was scared. Maybe of him, but probably something else.

Batman cut the engine once they were parked in the Batcave. "I'm going to have to... impress upon you the _importance_ of not discussing with anyone anything you see or hear here." He made his voice as menacing as possible, although he thought the kid was probably trust-worthy if he hung around Avengers. "You'll find that any of the technology built into your suit won't work down here, so if there's anything in that suit keeping you alive, you better tell me."

Peter automatically put a finger to his ear; so he did have tech in that suit. Peter lowered his hand, looking pale. "Nothing keeping me alive, sir... No problem on the rest of it, Mr. Wayne. I'm really sorry for all the trouble. I promise I'll never tell anyone. In fact, if there were some way we could keep from telling Mr. Stark... I mean, if we find him and all..." Peter swallowed hard. "He probably wouldn't be super thrilled that I hacked his computer, left the city, broke a window, and asked a vigilante to help me with something I was told to stay out of."

"So why are you?" But he didn't wait for Peter to answer. The doors to the Batmobile opened and Batman gracefully swung out, in the same moment pulling his mask and cowl back. Peter saw the familiar face of Bruce Wayne, the dark hair, blue eyes, handsome and all that but really different from Mr. Stark. Where Mr. Stark was teasing and sarcastic and high energy (although it had been very unpleasant to have him angry with him), Mr. Wayne exuded a quiet kind of strength and even maybe darkness but not like a creepy bad guy or anything. Peter crawled out of the car, trying to take in all his surroundings at once. He almost missed a old guy dressed fancy watching him with an eyebrow raised.

"Uh, hi," he said, waving politely.

"Alfred, this is Peter."

"Master Peter, you look cold. Might I offer you some dry clothing and something warm to drink?"

"Oh gee thanks, mister..."

"You may call me Alfred young sir."

"That's really nice of you, but I forgot I have this..." He patted his suit. "Oh, wait, it won't work here. Thanks Mr. Alfred but I gotta keep this suit on."

"Very well sir, I will still insist on you warming up, however. At your pleasure, sir?" He directed this at Bruce Wayne, giving him a look both rebuking and questioning. Bruce Wayne and Alfred were both all too familiar with the danger that accompanied knowing Batman's identity.

"We'll join you upstairs in just a minute Alfred," Bruce said. Alfred nodded to them both and walked toward a large staircase.

"Mr. Wayne, thank you for bringing me here, to your secret lair and all." He shivered in the dimly lit, spacious cave. "It's awesome. But I really can't stay very long. I gotta catch a bus back to Queens."

Bruce turned to hide a bit of a smile on that. "Then why don't you tell me why you came here, asking for my help."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter thought he should be much more excited about hanging out with the actual Batman but he was just so tired. He hadn't slept well since Tony had gone missing, May was worried, his homework and Spider-Man duties were suffering. His enhanced strength could only get him so far.

He was just so tired.

"I was supposed to be helping with evacuations," Peter said quietly. Bruce pointed to a chair and Peter collapsed into it. "Mr. Stark thought it might be good experience for me. I was supposed to keep back."

"Back up. Evacuations from what?"

"Oh, well there was this crazy guy that used to work for Stark Industries? Karl Oakley, it was on Mr. Stark's computer. But he got busted a while back for selling secrets, like some sort of spy or something. And he was using company resources for some bad projects, I guess? Mr. Stark's company doesn't manufacture weapons anymore but they have this whole research and development thing that they will sometimes sell to the military. Something like that. Mr. Stark is really interested in keeping soldiers safe in battles, that kind of thing. I don't know much about it, but this guy came back and he was fighting with this employee Frankie and I don't know all that happened but he ended up having these bombs? And there were a few people still in the building and Mr. Stark was having me get them out to safety. Iron Man couldn't just go in there and stop this guy because he rigged it to explode. A kill switch or something which I didn't even know was a real thing, I thought only in movies.

"So anyway." He looked up at Bruce, his eyes full of a pleading for understanding, grief, and pain. "Mr. Stark told me to stay back and out of the way while he went to deal with the Karl guy and try to talk to him. But I thought I could help? And I um... I didn't stay back. There was an explosion."

Bruce felt a wariness settle on his shoulders. He had seen before what guilt could do to an inexperienced young hero. It was a lot of weight to bear. He knelt by Peter's chair. "So then what happened?" He was surprisingly gentle. 

"So. What happened was when the bombs were going off like crazy, I didn't exactly have time to get out of the blast radius. So. He sent his suit to cover me."

"Leaving him vulnerable," Bruce finished after a moment's silence. From what he knew of Tony Stark, it was exactly the kind of foolish and self-sacrificing thing he would do. Certain circles had even gone so far as to insinuate that Tony Stark had some kind of death wish. Bruce knew better. Tony Stark would just rather die than live with someone, again, dying on his watch or under his care or because of his actions. There was a distinct difference. Part of him was thankful that it was a distinction that Peter didn't have to know. Yet.

"Yeah." Peter pushed his fingers against his eyes, tears that he hadn't shed for a week threatening now that he was talking to Batman of all times. "I don't know why he didn't just fly to me. I probably would have been fine without any help. I'm the one with super powers, and he's just... he shouldn't have done that."

"When milliseconds make a difference, the suit is probably faster without an occupant. And he wouldn't have been able to fly you clear so it would protect you from the debris and shrapnel."

"Yeah." He sniffed. "It actually flew straight up, so I got out before the building collapsed. FRIDAY took me to a safe distance and had to have an unlock code before she would let me out which took a while because of all the craziness, and by the time I got back, everything was over. Rescue teams were coming to start digging for survivors. For Mr. Stark. The thing is. I don't think Mr. Stark is buried under there. I asked FRIDAY for a visual as we were flying away, and I couldn't be sure but I think I saw someone else in the room. Karl was blown up, that was one of the last things I saw, but there was someone else, I know there was. I think maybe this was more than a case of a disgruntled employee, Mr. Wayne. I think maybe someone took Tony Stark. They haven't found his body and they would have by now. I know something else is going on."

"No one believed you?"

"Miss Potts and Mr. Rhodes are looking into it, but Happy flat out told me they think I'm in denial. He said if someone had him, they would have made demands by now. And there's nothing to suggest there was anyone else there. No footage of anything getting out of the rubble, but a lot of the cameras were destroyed in the blast, they could have missed it. They're looking into it, but it's been so long! I'm sure he got hurt in the blast Mr. Wayne! If I would have just stayed back like he asked, he would have been safe!"

"I'm still not sure why you need my help, Peter. I know Pepper Potts and James Rhodes. They will be diligent and dedicated to finding him. If Tony Stark is alive, they will find him," Bruce said after a moment.

"Yeah, I get all that, they said the same thing. They were doing everything they could. But Rhodey has to do stuff with the Avengers that takes him away some times and they don't have a lot of leads. And Pepper is so awesome, but she's not like us. She can't go looking for him herself. That's why I started to try and find him myself, breaking into his computer and stuff looking for a hint of anyone who might want to kidnap him. But Iron man has way too many enemies, it's overwhelming. I couldn't see where to start, and then I found out about you and I just... I need some help. Because it's... it's like he has to save everyone all the time but when he's in trouble, no one can save him! Not because they don't want to, they do, but it's not enough! I just think it's bogus!"

Bruce gave another rare smile at the phrase. "You're right. It is." He stood up. "Come on, Peter. I think Alfred won't be very happy if I keep you down in a cold dark cave much longer. Let's get you upstairs and warmed up while I get changed."

"Does this... does this mean you'll help me Mr. Wayne?"

"I can't make any promises. But I'll do my best."

Peter jumped to his feet. "Thanks Mr. Wayne, thanks a lot! I will make it up to you somehow!"

His energy renewed Peter bounded up the stairs ahead of him. Bruce frowned, contemplating. He'd seen footage of the aftermath of the explosion, and if there was any chance Tony Stark was without a suit and within the blast radius, there didn't seem to be a possible way he survived. There was a good chance Tony Stark was buried beneath the rubble; the damage had been extensive and catastrophic. But. Bruce had learned long ago not to discount someone's account of things just because it seemed unlikely or far-fetched. And if there was even a 1% chance Tony was alive and being held by an enemy, that put a lot of people in danger. Most of all, because Peter seemed alone and afraid, and might get into trouble if he were operating alone, Bruce decided he would help him.

He came upstairs almost 30 minutes later, having called in reinforcements so Gotham would not be left unprotected in his absence. He always had a few things packed, but had needed a few specific items and that had taken a few minutes as well. Peter looking much more comfortable after Alfred's ministrations, draped like a cat across a comfy, overstuffed leather chair, sipping hot chocolate and eating a sandwich, chatting amiably with the phlegmatic butler.

"So after your Aunt discovered your identity as Spider-Man, how did you convince her to allow you to continue your actions? Was she not opposed?"

"Opposed? Ha!" Peter snorted indelicately. "She definitely flipped out."

"Did you tell her of what her husband had once told you? About great power coming with great responsibility?"

"No." The chatty teenager was silent a moment. "I told her how much it meant to me. To help people. And. And I told her I would give it all up, for her, if she asked me to."

Bruce entered the room a bit noisily, and Peter sat up. Alfred gave a hard, searching look to Bruce, wondering what his plans were with the young teenager. Peter, Alfred could see already, was no Dick Greyson or Jason Todd. He was, for lack of a better term, innocent, and very inexperienced.

"Oh, hey Mr. Wayne. Wow, you look different!" Having secured Bruce's agreement to help, Peter Parker was falling back on his native cheerful demeanor and humor to deal with the stress and worry that he felt for his mentor. Bruce could see beneath Peter's exuberance that he was still fragile and upset; he wondered if Peter himself was aware of it.

"I'm not sure if you'd like the attention being seen walking around with Bruce Wayne would bring," Bruce reminded him.

"Oh, hey, yeah, that's smart. Disguise, yeah." Bruce's hair was now stark white, and he wore clothes that made him look like a lumberjack or something. Working clothes, like a construction worker. It had all the details right; a sleeve slightly frayed, the boots well taken care of but worn in, the smell of a faded cologne. He didn't look nearly as intimidating somehow, his face relaxed into a kind of amused exasperation, like, like--

Like a father might have when looking at his teenage son. Or an uncle. Peter swallowed, his smile falling off his face. Somehow that aspect of Bruce's disguise unsettled him. 

"Right." He sat up and took a hurried drink of his hot chocolate. "Are we leaving now? Bye, Alfred. Hey, do you have Instagram? Snapchat or anything? Okay, well if you ever do, look me up. Thanks for the hot chocolate, it's better than Aunt May's don't tell her." Peter grinned at Alfred and Alfred returned the smile, tightened slightly with worry.

"Do take care, Master Peter."

"Now you sound like Karen."

"Who's Karen?" Bruce asked curiously.

"Oh she's this artificial intelligence program Mr. Stark built into my suit. She's crazy awesome, she can even play my music! She's helped me lots of times." He enthused. "She thinks Mr. Stark is alive too even though... even though FRIDAY, Mr. Stark's AI, says that, um, the watch he was wearing showed a sudden stop in vital signs when the building collapsed. It could just be it got broken, though."

"Come on, Peter." Bruce gestured to a door and Peter started toward it. He stepped to Alfred to have a quiet word with him. "Call Jason if anything comes up, will you Alfred? And keep me informed."

"Do you really think Mr. Stark is alive?"

Bruce hesitated. "I think he saw something. It's worth investigating."

"Very good, sir. I wish you both good luck." He handed him a lunch bag, making Bruce give him a small smile of gratitude. 

"Thanks Alfred."

"You're welcome Master Bruce. Farewell."

...

Bruce Wayne drove toward Queens, at least a thirty-minute drive. He could only surmise that Peter had webbed his way into Gotham, or used public transit. Peter struck him as the type of kid to travel on the top of subway trains or buses if he needed to get somewhere quickly. Still, there must have been a lot of exertion involved, and it was getting late. He figured the kid was pretty tired, and sure enough, within ten minutes of being on the road Peter nodded off.

Bruce had already enacted certain computer searching protocols to see if there was any sign of Tony Stark. Though it was unlikely to yield any results that Pepper Potts and James Rhodes had not already obtained, it was worth having a look again at any footage of the aftermath of the explosion.

****** _A/N I got kind of bored writing about Bruce Wayne's detecting the crud out of everything. If I was bored writing it, you'd for sure be bored reading it, so, anyway, skipping ahead._ ******

Bruce came back to the car, wiping the blood off his mouth where the Thug of the Day had taken a swing at him. He could have dodged it but all that would do was prolong the fist fight, so he'd allowed him to get his punch in, opening him up for Bruce to knock him out. Peter Parker startled awake as the door opened, looking confused at his surrounds a moment.

"Mr. Wayne, I'm... I'm so sorry! I fell asleep! Oh my gosh your bleeding!"

"It's okay, Peter," Bruce said calmly. "I needed you to sleep so you can be in top form if we need." He smiled wryly. "You're not worried about a little blood, are you Peter? Because if you are, I'm thinking you need to find a new way to channel your gifts."

"No," Peter mumbled, ducking his head and blushing a little. "I'm not worried about blood. Well, maybe a little." He shuddered.

"Peter, listen. Tony Stark is alive. You were right all along. The bombs and disgruntled employee were a ploy to get to Iron Man." Bruce started the car and let it idle a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "However, they hadn't anticipated Spider-Man or Iron Man abandoning his suit of armor. They had planned to take him, foolishly, while in his Iron Man armor to try and make use of its technology."

"Who? Who did that? Where is Mr. Stark now?" Peter asked, looking as if he were ready to leap out of the car in an instant.

"Wait, Peter. Just let me explain. From what I've been able to gather, this is an old enemy of Tony Stark and Iron Man, Raza Hamidmi Al-Wazar." He glanced at Peter to see if he recognized the name. Peter looked at him blankly. "He was the man who held Tony prisoner in Afghanistan ten years ago, Peter. Obidiah Stane betrayed him after he failed to kill Tony Stark and he was presumed dead with his men when Stane had them all killed." His blue eyes studied Peter. "He enlisted the help of some man named Mysterio, I don't know his real identity, but he's a master of illusion, of special effects, and he was the one who helped to orchestrate Tony's kidnapping without getting all of the governments and agencies involved in trying to find him."

"Mr. Stark--" Peter looked at him in horror. "Mr. Stark was kidnapped by the same guy who held him prisoner and tortured him before?? Why are we sitting here? Where is he?"

"Peter!" Bruce said sharply. "Listen! You can't just hear a part of what I'm saying. You've got to be _smart,_ not just strong. I know you're strong. You still have to _think,_ do you understand?" Peter nodded, clenching his jaw, waiting for Bruce to tell him the rest of what he'd learned. "All right. The way I see it, we have a few options, none of them ideal. Peter, I _can't_ help you as Batman. It would be far, far too risky to both of our identities. I have many enemies as Batman. If I show up with Spider-Man, it would call all of their attention to you, and your city. As Bruce Wayne, I would be even less able to help you. In this disguise, I can help but you understand I won't have as many... resources if I'm not Batman." He waited until Peter nodded his understanding. "I could give you all this information and let you get it to James Rhodes or Pepper Potts. The problem with that is the time it will take to mobilize a response and to get back to the point we are now. The other problem we have is this. If they planned on taking Tony in his Iron Man armor, they likely have a way to neutralize it and they may be able to stop War Machine the same way. We have to assume they can, do you see?"

"I see everything you're saying, Mr. Wayne. Let's go get them. You and me, right now. No more waiting. Those guys have had him for a week, that's already too long! He could be dead by now already! I know he'd never cooperate with them."

"You're right, he wouldn't. Whatever they wanted with that suit, and I'm sure they had plans for it, they were not planning on having Tony's cooperation. Now they don't have his suit _or_ his cooperation. Time will be of the essence, but that makes it more dangerous. We need to move quickly while we still have the element of surprise but not so quickly we don't plan carefully."

"Fine! Let's get going though!" Peter felt as if he were on fire, he was so anxious.

"We will but I need your attention still. This is important. Peter I have rules when I'm working, rules I have to have your unequivocal agreement to. You must do what I say, immediately, and without question. You have to agree to that. Even if I ask you to stay put, or get back. I can't move forward with helping you if you don't agree. Peter!"

"All right, all right!! I promise!"

"Okay. Let's go."

...

Tony Stark drifted. There was pain-- that was good. It grounded him, somewhat. It was a rope around his waist that tugged him back when he was drifting too far. He didn't feel it all the time, that was also good, because it was pretty bad. Unpleasant. 

Of course, he'd had worse.

Nothing had really topped having his chest ripped open, his sternum cracked, his heart and lungs and ribs and vessels and tendons and tissues... he'd woken up in the middle of it before Yinsen had pressed a bitter smelling rag over his mouth and nose and he'd been lost after that for a while.

It wasn't as bad as that. But it was still pretty bad. In a more lucid moment, feeling every injury inflicted on him, he'd thought with satisfaction how many of them he'd taken out. At least ten, probably more. It was the sheer numbers, and Raza had learned nothing if not to keep him helpless and alone. The idiot had never figured out that Tony Stark was never, ever helpless. When he was his most helpless, he was his most dangerous. He made a mental note to send flowers to Coulson's grave. The man had brushed aside Fury's "Iron Man yes Tony Stark no" and had Tony trained for hand to hand combat, and Nat and Clint had kept him in pretty good shape for fighting before they abandoned ship. Something was lost in the Iron Man armor, he admitted that; the satisfying thunk of a skull hitting his fist and another bad guy hitting the dirt like a sack of rocks.

Presently, he was the sack of rocks, however. He'd won a couple of battles but there was no chance, without a little help, he was going to win any wars. Not with his hands tied behind him, his arms tied to the chair, his feet zip tied together (he'd managed to escape that once, but they had re-subdued him and taken his shoes. That was probably when his rib broke, but it had been cracked in the explosion, so), and his multitudinous injuries. The problem was... didn't look like help was likely to be coming. It was looking more and more likely that Raza would have to cut his losses. 

Kill him.

It meant Raza was going to kill him.

It filled him with a tired kind of anger, one that seethed, that burned. It galled him, it really did. This man had killed Yinsen. Had imprisoned him and tortured him for three months. There was one thing that people don't _get_ and that's a second shot at Tony Stark, at least up until now. He really, really wanted to kill Raza. The coward just wouldn't give him the opportunity.

His head hurt abominably. He'd gotten a concussion a couple of days ago when he got thrown into a concrete wall. That had bought him a few blissful hours of oblivion, but it was hardly worth it now that he had to suffer from a constant headache and fuzzed vision. Ultimately it just served to piss him off more. 

The truth was, he was getting tired. Thankfully the last moron who'd been sent to smack him around had let the chair tip over. Sure, it slammed him into the ground, bruising his arm up pretty good, but when he'd finally left he was able to flip around enough that he was lying on his back. It probably wasn't good to lay on his hands like that, but he couldn't feel them anymore anyway, so. The point was, he didn't have to hold his head up. Just for a few minutes, that felt like heaven. Just to rest his head. It hurt so much. 

He couldn't think what Pepper was going through. He couldn't think what might happen if he didn't make it out of here... he knew the world wasn't ready for what was coming and he didn't want to leave it up to others, he had to make _sure_ himself, he couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about Peter, losing someone else. He couldn't. He tried not to think that if he died now, his old teammates, the ex-Avengers, wouldn't even come to his funeral, being fugitives and all. He didn't want to think about any of that, so he just thought about how nice it felt to rest his head. It was so heavy.

The next thing he knew, the chair was being righted. He'd somehow dozed off, no way to tell how long. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey," Brutus Beardy Face said cheerfully. There was a chance if Tony was able to kill one more person, it would be the sadistic guard. But if he only got one shot, it was going to be Raza, so hopefully he could go out in a blaze of glory and take them both.

Right. He couldn't even focus his eyes. One thing at a time.

The man himself appeared, as he had only two other times. "'The Great Tony Stark,'" Raza intoned, quoting himself from all those years ago. "You look like hell."

"This coming from Two Face's uglier, less important twin brother," Tony responded, managing to roll his eyes. 

"Ah. Still. I see." He came and hunched over to be eye level with the bruised billionaire. "Stark you must have realized by now that I have very little hope of persuading you to save your own life by giving me what I want. At this point, your death is assured, I want to be clear." His voice was annoying condescending, vividly reminding him of the cave ten years ago. "Right now all you can do is assure the relative comfort and safety of your loved ones in your absence. Who will defend them, Stark, with you gone, hmm? Your crippled friend? The infant robot? I have you at my mercy. They will not find me so merciful, Stark. Give me what I want and I will leave them alone. I have no reason or desire to harm them if you do."

Tony took a moment to try and breathe. He trusted Rhodey, Pepper, and Vision to take care of themselves but it still hurt to think of anyone trying to harm them, it really did. "You may find them tougher to swallow than you think, Raza. You have no honor, in any case. What I'm just going to trust you on this one?"

"I will prove to you my good will. It really makes no difference at this point. As I said, you are at my mercy." He glanced at Brutus Beardy Face and the man untied Tony's hands and arms and finally his feet. Tony looked at his hands... they were bad. Oh. They were really bad. He couldn't really move his fingers. He felt a stab of dread. Brutus Beardy Face pulled him to his feet by his shirt front but Tony hadn't eaten or slept or changed position in too long and immediately his legs gave out. This only seemed to make Raza angry and he kicked out at Tony, who managed to deflect the kick somewhat but only because Raza hadn't been serious. It still sent a stab of pain through his side with the broken rib and Tony grunted in pain.

"You're pathetic," Raza said contemptuously. "I ought to just kill you. Every moment you are alive, you are a risk to me, but it pleases me to see you in pain. I owe you, Stark. I have long owed you. Long ago, I promised you your life if you gave me a weapon. Now I promise you your friends, your loved ones will be spared if you cooperate. It's the best I can offer you. If not. Well." He smiled down at Tony. "I have been very patient so far, not using other methods of persuasion on you Tony. I think we all remember how unpleasant you found them. If they won't work on you, perhaps the lovely Pepper Potts? Her beautiful hair floating in the water, it would be lovely don't you think?"

Suddenly Tony felt a sick dread. He knew he must have gone pale because he felt cold and shaky. He was threatening to waterboard him again, and Pepper. He couldn't speak.

"Ah, what a beautiful silence that greets my ears. It means that we understand each other, I think. I will let you rest. There's even food for you, you see how kind I am now, don't you? Rest well!" He said cheerfully. Brutus took the chair and they left Tony alone again, albeit with the cameras still watching him carefully. There had been a mattress, initially, which he managed to dig a spring out of and in the darkness formed a weapon. It was crude but effective, got him pretty close to the exit but there were too darn many of them. Now it was just the cement floor and the white paint-peeling walls and the camera, out of reach, not that he could stand. There was a bucket for him to pee in, but he knew it was only so they didn't have to deal with the smell and mess when they came to chat. 

He glanced at the food left on a plate on the floor with a glass of water. Honestly he was so hungry and thirsty he would have to eat and drink it, though it could be drugged with something. Unfortunately, he couldn't get his hands to work well enough to pick something up at the moment, though some of the color was beginning to return to his fingers. That was going to hurt like hell, provided there was no nerve damage from lack of blood flow. Perfect. He rubbed his hands on his legs to try and encourage blood flow.

He curled up on the floor, feeling the pressure and prickle of tears behind his eyes, but he knew they wouldn't fall. It took more than physical pain to make him cry, ever since he was a little kid and Howard taught him Stark men are made of iron. He considered his near future.

The truth was, his team had been recently decimated, and even _if_ they were looking for him and didn't presume him dead, Rhodey and Vision were helpless against Raza's EMP weapon, the very weapon they planned to use to disable the suit long enough to steal it. Only by the grace of God had he sent it to protect Peter from the blast; at least there was that. What he needed was... he needed the others. And the others were gone. Even if they realized he was in danger, it was most likely that they wouldn't come at all or wouldn't come in time. Sure, Steve said he'd come whenever Tony needed him, insufferable bastard. But that had been for saving the world, for protecting civilians from threats. Steve Rogers wouldn't come for him when he was in danger because he hadn't stayed, even though it placed them all in danger. Simple math.

On that depressing note, he turned to try and sleep while he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuggg nothing ever turns out the way I think it should but I'm done fiddling with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter let himself feel afraid these days. He didn't use to, but he quickly learned-- fear didn't bottle, it didn't smother, it didn't disappear. It rebounded, it redoubled, it intensified if you tried to ignore it. It was why he wore a mask, initially; it wasn't because he thought about needing to keep things secret but because he didn't want his enemies to see that he was young and afraid. So, he'd learned to give himself a little time, to feel it, really allow himself to be terribly afraid, and then he'd let it go and do what he needed. 

As the arrived at the location they were keeping Mr. Stark, he hoped that five seconds would be enough. He caught a glimpse of an unmoving body across the length of the large open floor and knew five seconds wasn't going to be long enough to process the sudden fear that reared up in his heart. Ten then.

One

Bruce Wayne, his hair white, his eyes blue, dressed entirely in black with a black mask covering the bottom of his face, swooped down, literally swooped, he had two guys down and then it was

two, three

Peter who shot webs at two other guys who were swinging their guns around. It rendered the guns useless but he jerked them out of their hands anyway, using the momentum to pull himself toward them at a slightly faster rate than usual, slamming into them and knocking them into a wall and unconscious and then

four, five

he still allowed himself to feel afraid, most of what he was doing was pure instinct, training, and Karen. He took out four more guys before he'd even thought about it. Human beings were so fragile, really, and the thought made him turn to check on Bruce, who was only a normal human after all and

six

he had a brief moment to watch Bruce Wayne in action. It was like watching a ballet. Like, a really violent ballet, with an occasional blood splatter, but really so graceful. Peter had worked with Mr. Stark a lot of times and they worked pretty well in tandem, but this. The two of them were poetry in motion. Something metal couldn't be, in this way, not that it wasn't awesome but this was something else. Every movement and motion and it was like Bruce could read what he was about to do and the two of them tore through the room, and it was so perfect, it was so beautiful, but in the back of his panicked mind, Peter knew

seven

it was already too late

eight

he landed next to Tony, who hadn't moved, hadn't greeted him. But they'd found him, they'd found him when no one else was even looking in the right place, he'd gotten help, he'd gotten _Batman_ to help him so it would be fine, it should be fine

nine, ten.

...

 

He was still afraid.

 

...

He grasped his mentor's shoulder and turned him over. He could hear, he could sense there was still danger but he had to trust that Mr. Wayne was taking care of it because he had, he had, he had to help Mr. Stark--

He shook Tony's shoulder, trying to elicit a reaction, but he could hear, he could hear that he wasn't breathing, that his heart was failing, it was so faint, so tired, he could hear it he could hear it too slow and too faint, all wrong--

He felt Bruce's hand on his shoulder and he pulled him back, out of the way, and took a bare moment to feel for a pulse before he started pushing on Tony's chest. He was doing CPR, he was pushing hard on Tony's chest, really hard, wasn't that too hard? Mr. Stark had heart problems, it looked like he was about to break his whole chest--

"Spider-Man," Bruce said sharply. Peter looked up, meeting Bruce Wayne's piercing blue eyes. "In the car. There's a red box. It's a defibrillator, I need it. Go get it! Now!" Peter stood up but his feet seemed cemented to the ground; it was as if he'd forgotten how to walk, how to move. It was just that Mr. Stark looked wrong, all wrong, and he was beginning to think he couldn't be him after all, the skin color and the pale lips and how he wasn't moving at all it was all wrong. 

"Come on, Peter!" He said softly so only Peter could hear. "I need you kid, I can't do both. If you want to help me save him, go get the red box out of the car." It was the gentleness. Something soft and kind in this dark and red place. It pulled him out of it and suddenly is was flying back to the car.

...

It wasn't the first time Batman had to give CPR. He remembered all of them, an act of life-giving violence.

He concentrated on the movement of it, the numbers and the mechanics, but even though he tried to keep his mind busy he sensed, he felt the ghosts materializing around him. Memories of all those he had failed to save, that he had seen like this, broken, injured, dying before his eyes.

"Come on, Stark," he growled, blowing into the dying man's mouth with two breaths, watching his chest rise, fall, rise, fall, and then pushing again. "You don't want to break that kid's heart, do you? Come on."

...

Awareness came, and Tony Stark waited a moment for sensation to catch up. The inevitable pain. Familiar, a touchstone, but it did not come. He felt nothing. It wasn't cold or warm, he wasn't on a surface soft or hard. Nothing. He tried to move but couldn't tell if he succeeded because there was no resistance, nothing to touch upon. He could not even feel his own body. There was no light, but it was not dark. It simply was. Part of his brain was trying to figure out _how_ he was experiencing anything when he couldn't even _perceive_ anything, but his thoughts soon calmed, his curiosity and anxiety easing away like a passing cloud. He began to realize that aside from the relief of ubiquitous pain, he didn't feel tired. He didn't feel hungry or thirsty, as he had for the past several days. That nudged something uncomfortable in his memory, something he didn't want to think about, so he didn't. Again his thoughts eased and calmed.

"Anthony," a voice said, neither loud nor soft, but familiar. 

"Dad?" He tried his voice, but he wasn't breathing, no sound came. 

"Anthony, son."

"Dad?" He thought it this time, and somehow it worked, better than speaking, easier and clearer. 

"Anthony," it was his mother's voice, as he hadn't heard it in so long, not in ages, not since Siberia anyway and not before that since the last time he saw her, BARF had never pefectly captured her. But it came to him as familiar and easy as when he was a child. It didn't hurt, there was no pain, no grief. It was as if he were six again, waiting to read with her from an engineering magazine he'd found. 

"Mom!" He thought, and his heart throbbed with a beat of joy. 

"Anthony, sweetie, you shouldn't be here yet," and he couldn't tell if that was his mom or his dad but it was a sad voice, regretful. It seemed to him as if the nothingness was lifting, as if he'd been staring at a foggy night and both day was coming and the fog was lifting but so slowly so imperceptibly he could not be certain. 

"Come on, Stark!" He heard, but it was strange, the voice was unfamiliar. It bothered him a moment but it didn't stick, the feeling ebbed away. It was peaceful here, gentle. None of the fear or anxiety that usually plagued him. 

"Mr. Stark, please! Please, please, Tony!" Tony paused. That voice, he knew that voice. It was Peter Parker, and that made the uncomfortable nudge on his memory more of a pang, more uncomfortable, tending toward pain but not yet, not quite.

Suddenly he _felt. _There was a burning across his chest and his gasped, or would have if he could, waiting for pain. But no pain came, it was just the burning, just that moment of heat before the pain and it stretched on and on the painless burning in his chest but now he felt _pressure, pressure, pressure, pressure_ coming and then being relieved in quick succession over and over again. It was strange. But he didn't care about it much. It was if he were suspended in a thick liquid. Thoughts and emotions came and went like a wave, leaving only calm and the pleasant feeling of relief from pain and sorrow and guilt and fear and anxiety and anger. He felt pressure on his lips, twice, before he realized he didn't exactly feel his lips; it was more of a dream of it, a memory.__

____

____

__"Anthony, if you want to come with us you can," his father's voice said kindly. He'd never, ever heard it take that tone for him before and it should have been shocking, it should have been unbelievable but it was the most natural thing in the world, as natural as breathing, as natural as being. "You've been so brave. I've been so proud, son." And then Tony did feel pain, sharp and sweet and as endless in his chest, in his soul, in the part of him that was most _him.__ _

"TONY!" The burning had subsided like everything here but he felt it reignite, and this time he felt it, the pain. It sparked like gunpowder, brief but powerfully painful. He felt a pull, like gravity, that hadn't been there before, like he was falling but very slowly.

" _Vita mia,_ " his mother said softly and he grasped her love like a lifeline. "It's all right, darling. Go back. You're not supposed to be here yet. We will wait, my love."

__"Be brave a bit longer, my boy. I love you too."_ _

__Darkness fell. All of the peace and calm and ease flew away from him faster than thought and in the same moment the world and cold and wet and pain and pressure and hunger and thirst and all of it, all of it, crashed upon him like a ton of bricks. His chest hurt. It hurt like hell. There was a heavy weight on it, crushing him, piercing him broken ribs with excruciating pain, and he couldn't breathe. For a moment there was a relief from the pressure and he felt someone's fingers on his neck as he tried to push through the wet plastic heaviness of the darkness upon him, he tried to open his eyes, tried to push away the hands and his throat but he couldn't lift his hands, he couldn't move his eyelids, he was so weak._ _

"I think I feel a pulse!" A deep voice said near his ear.

"I can... I can hear his heart beating again! And he's breathing!" A voice faint with fear of hope and tears sounded nearby.

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, can you hear me?" The fierce pain throughout his body crushed out any thought, any words. He thought all he could feel was pain, that there could be nothing else, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and gentle and pressing. It was the kid, he knew, knew without seeing, it was Peter Parker and he willed himself with all his strength to open his eyes.

They fluttered once, then twice before his command of them was equal to the task and still everything was hazy and far away. He could still see, distantly, Spider-Man pull up his face mask and then Peter's anguished face, alight with fear and hope. "Mr. Stark!" He felt strong hands place an oxygen mask over his face

Through the fog of pain he felt _concern,_ because here was Peter and hadn't there been danger and wasn't there a stranger near and wasn't his mask off? Tony tried to sit up, tried to speak, but nothing was working right.

"Lie still, Stark," the deep voice above him said and Tony painfully turned his head to try and see. A white haired man with piercing blue eyes met his gaze and he looked at him blankly before movement caught his gaze and he saw Peter. Poor kid was crying and he felt bad for him, or at least he would, if everything didn't hurt so much. 

"Hey, kid, 'sokay," he tried to say. He couldn't quite tell if he was successful or not. Peter grabbed his hand and held it painfully tight, but Tony didn't mind, so much. Peter pressed his forehead to Tony's hand, trying not to sob in front of Iron Man and Batman _that_ would only make him die of embarrassment. Seriously, he could never live that down.

"Stark. The police will be here soon to take you to the hospital."

Tony pushed at the mask on his face, and gentle hands moved it so he could speak. "No... hospital. Medical." Bruce looked at Peter questioningly and Peter nodded his understanding.

"He means Stark Medical at Avenger's compound. It's... uh, it's equipped to deal with traumas and things... and the doctors there know his... um, about his heart? And things? I think."

"Happy," Tony whispered and Bruce looked baffled. Peter gave a weak chuckle.

"It's his driver. Happy, he's his friend I was telling you about."

"Right," Bruce said with a rumble of amusement in his deep voice. "He probably wants you to call him." Tony nodded faintly.

"Okay." He gave Tony's hand one last painful squeeze and moved away, pulling his mask down and activating Karen to call Happy and Pepper, and the rest of the Avengers if they were around. 

Tony's brow furrowed, clenching his eyes shut as he gave in to a wave of pain now that Peter was distracted. His body was rigid. "Easy," Bruce said softly. "What did they do to you?" He murmured this, as if talking to himself, but Tony answered.

"Nothing that hasn't been done to me before, Brucie Boy," he said through the oxygen mask, his face pale. Bruce chuckled. 

"So you do recognize me," he commented. "Good for you."

"Took me a minute," he said faintly without opening his eyes. "The... the man with scars on his face." Bruce pulled his mask up and glanced around. It had taken him a few moments, but he had made sure that all the bad guys were tied up and he had been also careful to keep his back to them. Now he searched through the faces for one with scars and saw a man watching him, his eyes full of hatred and threats. 

"I got him, Tony."

"Be careful," Tony murmured. "Don't... don't let him get away, Bruce." His body relaxed in unconsciousness as pain and trauma overwhelmed his body just Peter came back over, his body language anxious.

"It's all right. He's breathing fine, and his heart rate is good. I have to go, Spider-Man, before the police get here. They will want to ask a lot of questions."

Peter hesitated, but he could hear that the police were here now and Rhodey would be here within minutes. "I don't know how to thank you. But... Thank you. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. You really are."

"I hope I can return the favor some day."

"You just might." He stood and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Be good, Spider-Man." He was gone just as the police entered the building. 

...

Tony Stark drifted. He felt a heaviness in his mind and realized he was waiting for something, but he wasn't sure what it was. It was too much effort to try and remember, so he didn't; he supposed he would know what he was waiting for when it happened. 

"Mr. Stark?" That was it. Peter was supposed to visit after school today. He'd been trying to for days but he had school and Tony wasn't much up to visitors so they both had to... wait. Tony opened his eyes.

"Hey kid get in here," he said, pushing himself up to sitting, carefully. "How are you Petey? May, hi! Didn't know you'd be here." He smiled at the pretty woman who gave him a smile in return more like a grimace. The two of them hadn't seen eye to eye on much since she found out Peter was Spider-Man, but they'd agreed to some kind of cease fire, or at least a truce of some sort. It had been painful to Peter when they were at odds, and the both of them had his best interest at heart. May had eventually seen everything that Tony had done and was doing to protect the teenager and they had an uneasy alliance. 

"Mr. Stark, you look terrible. How are you feeling?" May said, worry in her voice. Though they didn't always get along, she had found herself grudgingly liking the eccentric billionaire and had been just as worried as Peter when he'd disappeared.

"Gee, thanks May. You know just how to make a guy feel better. No, seriously, you're making me blush here. What gave me away, the bruises? Or are you just saying it to be nice?"

She laughed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she teased, but with a note of gentleness he didn't miss. "You always look terrible. Today's no exception."

Tony rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smirk from her sassy response. "Mr. Stark, how are you? What did the doctors say? Pepper wouldn't tell me much."

"My fault, kid, I told her to let me talk to you about everything. Debriefing, if you will. Had to be frustrating, sorry."

"It's okay," Peter said quickly. "I get it."

"Well, Peter, have a seat." Peter did, with a quick glance at his aunt. 

"I think I'll step out, yeah? Is it okay?" She asked, seeking Peter's assurance he didn't want her there and making sure Tony didn't need to tell her anything. They both nodded their okay at her and she smiled at the two of them, her heart pained a little. The pair of them were so broken and yet kind, always seeking to help others. She was beginning to realize that Tony was what Peter would have become if he didn't have the encouragement and support of a loving parent. It made her feel sorry for Tony and also thankful for him, for keeping Peter from having to go through all he had. She stepped into the hall. 

"Come here, Peter, I want out of this bed but I need to lean on you. I just need a hand... yeah, that's great." Peter let Tony lean on him and helped him walk to a comfy looking recliner and sit down. May was right, his mentor did look terrible, but much better than the last time he'd seen him. He definitely had more of spark in his eyes. "So," he began with a smirk. "You and Ned hacked a secure server and looked at a whole bunch of secret information that was not for your eyes, right?"

"Uh... um. Yesshh." Peter smiled sheepishly. 

"Well, I suppose you realize I'll have to kill you now," Tony sighed dramatically. Peter smiled, blushing. "I'm sure you don't need to hear this, Peter, but please be sure that you don't tell anyone what you read in those files. Not even Ned, you can't even talk about it with me. I never thought anyone would get into those files and I've since destroyed them to be on the safe side. You're the only one who knows about it. It's more than my life is worth to protect that secret, Peter." He was serious now, more tired looking. "I would never have chosen to burden you with such an important secret, but we are where we are. For my sake, I need your promise, your absolute word of honor you won't ever tell anyone about it, okay?"

"I promise," Peter said, subdued. 

"All righty. That being said... thanks, kid. Truly thank you. You saved my life."

"Yeah, I know," Peter grinned. "But I kind of owed you one." Tony shook his head, smiling. "Not going for the door this time. I think we might have got there," he quipped, leaning over to embrace the young superhero. Surprised but pleased, Peter hugged him back as carefully as he could. "You've had everyone's back for a long time, Mr. Stark. I'm just glad me and Batman could have yours this once." "Me too, kid. Me too."


End file.
